


The First Step

by Lady Mythos (Lady_Mythos)



Series: Incognito [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Best Friends, Gen, Gender Identity, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mythos/pseuds/Lady%20Mythos
Summary: Jazz has to decide if he's ready to leave the Medbay. Optimus helps.
Relationships: Jazz & Optimus Prime
Series: Incognito [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635262
Kudos: 43





	The First Step

**Author's Note:**

> A year and a half later and I finally published the second drabble in the series. Yeesh. Enjoy friends

"Waiting for an engraved invitation?"

Jazz huffed as a massive blue and red arm draped around his shoulders. He didn't need Optimus to come in and babysit him. "Ah'll march t'rough dose medbay doors when Ah'm good an' ready."

Optimus's rumbly laugh was the only warning Jazz got before he was scooped, biting and kicking, into those annoying large arms. A frisson of fear threaded through him as he realized that his usual moves had no effect on Optimus. Primus frag him, how was he going to go back into the field like this? Why did he make such a stupid decision so soon? He was barely 65 percent of his previous weight, which meant he had none of the mass to back up his punches! Would Prime even let him back into battle with Jazz so small and vulnerable now? And, oh Pit, his _underlings_. He'd been lying to them since day one. How would they ever trust him enough to tease him, much less lay down their lives for him? Jazz was so stressed, he didn't realize that he was keening in distress and clawing at his own arms. 

But Optimus noticed.

Thick fingers rubbed just below his left horn—why did so many mechs know his weak spot—and Jazz helplessly melted. He tilted his helm into the broad chassis, purring at the warm thrum of Optimus's big generator spark and the elusive alien-yet-familiar call that belonged to the Matrix. His core coding greedily soaked up the offered comfort. While his new size and weight had drastically diminished his usual martial practices, Jazz felt inexplicably overjoyed that he could now fit perfectly into Optimus's warm lap. He completely relaxed for the first time in decavorns, able to shut down his paranoid subroutines and overactive battle protocols to just bask in the warm presence of another. Optimus always knew how to keep Jazz safe.

"Feeling better?"

"....Jus' cuz Ah'm lap sized don' mean dat Ah should be treated like Ah'm lap sized."

Optimus snorted. "Be honest with yourself, ami. You've needed this for a long time."

"Ah'm sorry one o' us has been too busy talkin' wit' humans ta have time fo' cuddles. I didn't wanna bug ya none—"

Jazz yelped as his horn was rudely flicked before his helm was pressed firmly against the windows that guarded Optimus's spark.

"Don't gimmie that slag, Jazz. Ya know fraggin' well as I do that I've always gotta hunt ya down." 

Jazz's horns flattened petulantly. From the very beginning, when Jazz had come clean to Ratchet about his true frametype, Ratchet had assigned Optimus to be Jazz's generator guardian. Apparently, bearers needed more touch, particularly generator touch, than the average mech and lack thereof would be detrimental to healthy programming. Due to Jazz's long deprived state, he'd imprinted almost immediately to the platonic cuddles and Ratchet promptly had them scheduled weekly with Optimus. Jazz liked them well enough and he enjoyed hanging out with the coarse but good-sparked dockworker Orion that came out of noble do-gooder Optimus. But he hated the fact that he even needed them. It only felt like rust in the wound that was being a useless bearer. 

Another damn horn flick broke him out of his thoughts. 

"And enough of the self-hating slag! There ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a bearer and we both know it. Ya just gotta get back used to ya new body and you'll be back on the field again." Again, Optimus was far too perceptive for his own good. Jazz buried his face into the crook of Optimus's neck and hummed a half-hearted assent.

He really _did_ love the proximity. The massive engine powering Optimus hummed its secrets to him. Jazz let himself get drunk off of the contact, feeling his thoughts spiraled lazily until they faded into oblivion. Optimus really was the best of generators and friends... . . .

.

.

.

"Time to come back up, Jazz." The aforementioned puddle of black, white, and silver plating grumbled. Sure, he kicked up a fuss getting _into_ his scheduled cuddles, but Jazz would be damned if Optimus tried to weasel his way out of them before Jazz was good and ready! Besides it had barely been a servoful of cycles since Optimus had wrangled him, right? A large servo stroked down his spinal strut. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

' _Wha—'_

Blunt but deceptively clever digits fluttered along Jazz's bare protoform. He shrieked with laughter. Countless centivorns of intimacy provided Optimus with a rather keen sense of where Jazz's ticklish points were and he ruthlessly exploited them. All Jazz could do was giggle helplessly and slap at Optimus's chassis.

"Aight, aight! Ah'm up, ah'm up!"

"Good." Optimus tweaked a black hip before pouring Jazz onto his berth. Sneaky fragger. Jazz admired the line of his frame as Optimus stretched. His guardian had no idea just how sexy he was. If Jazz didn't hold a massive torch for a certain tactician, he could easily find himself falling for Optimus. Alas, their fate was that of amica and not conjunx. 

Blue digits rubbed at his horn again, prompting a content chirrup.

"It has been two joors since I first arrived and it's time for refueling. Would you like me to bring you something?"

Jazz paused, nibbling at his lip. It had been half an orn since he'd stepped out of the medbay. Not his longest stint but long enough for certain invisible subordinates to become nervous. He hated to admit it, but Jazz knew that he could only wait so long before Mirage broke in.

Well, never let it be said that Jazz let others dictate his life.

"Nah, Ah think Ah'll j-join ya out-outside." 

Optimus paused, tipping his head to stare at Jazz. The blue-hot blaze of his gaze twisted Jazz's tanks and he could feel the energon racing through his tubes. He could feel the flicker of stuttering bravado wink out, leaving him cold, nervous, and edgy. Optimus always felt like he could see straight into Jazz's spark. And with the Matrix, the possibility wasn't unlikely. 

Jazz dropped his gaze, fiddling with his claws. A big servo draped itself over his neck. "Are you sure, little one? I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

Sympathy never failed to make Jazz squirm and he wiggled out of the grip. "Thanks, OP, but Ah gotta make sure mah mechs don' brek-up de Medbay. An' if Ah stay longer, das exactly wuz gonna 'appen."

Optimus wrangled Jazz against his side, ignoring the screech of petulant claws along his plating. "You make a good point. I think Ratchet would put both Mirage and you down if Mirage broke into the Medbay again."

"Ain't mah fault de twitchiest Spec Ops. survived," Jazz huffed, resigned to his fate of semipermeant attachment to Optimus's chassis as the two walked to the Bay doors. Optimus pretended Jazz's frame didn't shake with every step. He tweaked a drooping horn and wrapped his arm around a slim waist. 

"Whatever comes outside of these doors, I'll protect you from it all." The sentiment burned warm and hollow in Jazz's chassis. 

"We'll hafta see 'bout that."


End file.
